MicroHorror

They came into the open area of the warehouse where two men scurried about. One of these men fiddled with a video camera while the other tended a chair placed in the center of the room. It was an electric chair. Carter said, “Is that it?”

“Yep, that’s her,” said the director. “Nice, huh?”

They walked over to the chair, and the director tapped the man on the shoulder. He looked up. “This is Hanley, our special effects man,” the director said. Hanley nodded, shook Carter’s hand, and then returned to his business. The director pointed to the cameraman.

“That’s Lewis. Lewis, this is Carter.” Lewis looked up, mildly annoyed at the interruption, and waved. The director shrugged. “And that’s it,” he said. “That’s the crew. As I explained earlier, we only have Hanley for about an hour today, so I want to get the special effects shot finished. How’s that costume feelin’ on ya?”

Carter looked down at his pinstriped prison uniform, circa 1920. “Feels good.”

“Good. Go ahead and take a seat.” Carter sat down in the chair. Hanley appeared before him and secured his ankles and wrists to it with leather straps. The wrist restraints were tight. Carter grimaced. “I know they’re snug,” the director said, “but I want to start with a close-up before we widen to an establishing shot. After we get the take, we’ll loosen them up.”

“All right.”

Hanley slid the metal cap down on Carter’s head and secured it. He said, “That was easy.”

“This could end up being the easiest one yet,” said the director.

“How would you like me to act in this take?” Carter said. “Violently? You want a struggle?”

The director grinned. “Do whatever comes naturally.”

Lewis drew near, instrument in hand, and when the director called for action, he swooped low over the restraints for several seconds as Carter flexed his fingers. “Cut,” the director said. “Nice.”

“Can you loosen these straps now?” Carter said. He laughed uneasily.

“Sure, just one second.” The director looked up as Hanley rolled a small control panel adorned with levers and knobs into the room. He plugged the chair into it.

“Okay, so how do you want to do this?” he said.

“What’s the normal voltage they use? Two thousand? We probably want something more dramatic than that, so let’s go with four thousand.”

“Hey, guys,” Carter said in a louder voice. “The straps. My hands are turning blue.” No one looked at him. They seemed to have forgotten his existence entirely.

“Four thousand it is. You want to tape his eyes?”

“No, he wants to see if they pop out, and at the very least, he wants to see the blood. He was specific about that.”

“All right, fuck this. I quit. Let me out of this chair. Now.” Carter’s voice cracked a little despite his efforts to speak firmly. He was squirming in the chair and had begun to sweat.

Hanley said, “You want to put a wet sponge under his cap?”

“No. If his head catches fire, that will be even more of a bonus.”

“Let me out of this goddamn chair right now!” Carter was fighting the restraints, his face flushed and dripping with sweat.

Hanley looked at him dispassionately. “Maybe we should record this, too. He might like all this struggling.”

The director considered. “You’re right. He likes to see a struggle. He might pay us more than fifty thousand dollars. Lewis?”

“I’m already gettin’ it,” Lewis said from behind his camera.

The director nodded. “Okay, positions, everybody. Get that microphone in close. I want to hear the sizzling clearly.”

“Holy God, holy Jesus! Wait a second! Jesus Christ!”

The director looked at the screaming, sweating, struggling figure in the chair, and then he nodded at Hanley, who stood with his hand poised over a lever on the control board. “Action,” he said.

Hanley pulled the lever.

• Copyright: © 2009 Trinity Martin